


Oh, how you bind me

by Nikkia



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bottom Madara, Dom Hashirama, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't Judge Me, Inappropriate Use of Chakra, Inappropriate use of Mokuton, Light BDSM, M/M, Sub Madara, Top Hashirama, there is a distinct lack of bottom Madara fics out there, this is just kinky smut I wrote like a year ago, this is my contribution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28622361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikkia/pseuds/Nikkia
Summary: “Good boy,” Hashirama murmurs in his ear.Madara’s practically sitting in the larger man’s lap, straddling his thighs, dangerously close to straddling something else. His hands strain against the vines that have them held behind his back, itching for something to grab and scratch and to give what he’s getting, but the mokuton is not so weak, and he is unable to do anything but whimper and moan in frustration around the gag in his mouth as the vines around him writhe and tighten just a smidge, rough against his skin in the best way.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 23
Kudos: 150





	Oh, how you bind me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not kidding in the tags, I've literally had this sitting, basically completed, in my documents for a year or two. 
> 
> I have no idea why I haven't posted it yet, but a fellow author commented about how they would love to read more bottom Madara fics and I was inspired to just get this out there. Thanks so much for helping me get back into gear [Thorn_Rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorn_Rose/pseuds/Thorn_Rose)!
> 
> This isn't an example of my writing that I'm super happy with (cause it's from so long ago) but it's good enough to post I believe. This one was born from the idea that "Madara is a good sensor, Hashirama has lots of chakra, I wonder what would happen if chakra play was a thing". 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“Good boy,” Hashirama murmurs in his ear, hot and low, hands pulling at his hair and nails digging into his scalp. Madara shivers when that mouth moves down, biting and sucking amazingly slowly down the side of his neck, moaning loud when Hashirama reaches that perfect spot at the junction between neck and shoulder. Hashirama sends him a heated glance before attacking that spot with the perfect combination of teeth and tongue, pain and pleasure.

He’s practically sitting in the larger man’s lap, straddling his thighs, dangerously close to straddling something else. His hands strain against the vines that have them held behind his back, itching for something to grab and scratch and to give what he’s getting, but the mokuton is not so weak, and he is unable to do anything but whimper and moan in frustration around the gag in his mouth as the vines around him writhe and tighten just a smidge, rough against his skin in the best way. 

Madara shuts his eyes tight, trying to gain some control over the sensations but also wanting to feel them that much more intensely. The Senju grabs his hips like he owns them and pulls them towards his own, having their arousals rub together, letting out a deep rumble of pleasure while Madara whines in need. He tries to push their hips back together, knowing that the ring on his cock won’t allow him sweet release just yet, but it’s the instinct, the carnal need of lust and want of more that has him trying anyway. His eyes roll back so far it hurts as he gets one second of friction that leaves his skin buzzing before he is snapped back to reality when Hashirama’s fingers roughly dig in to his hips not so unpleasantly. 

He meets eyes that have become darker than his own, heady with lust and arousal so strong Madara feels his skin heat up from the look alone. Suddenly a hand is on his dick, stroking up and down, tugging on the shaft and massaging the head, running a thumb over his slit over and over again. Madara lets out a muffled cry, throwing his head back and arching, his hips thrusting forward only to be held back by Hashirama's other hand alone. The Senju says nothing for a few moments, seemingly content to watch him writhe and jerk in his lap and hear the lovely sounds he makes. 

Just when Madara thinks that the torture would never end, the hand comes up to cup his face, thumb smearing his own fluid on the corner of his lips and up his cheekbone. Madara jerks his hips once more in vain, desperate for something to relieve the hot pressure building up in his groin. Hashirama looks at him lovingly, but there’s something else in that gaze that makes him feel like he is prey standing before a predator.

“Oh, Madara,” Hashirama says quietly, but he may as well have been yelling the words, for they were the only sound that reached Madara’s ears at that moment. His voice is smooth and deep, as always, but there’s an underlying hoarseness that gives his intentions away. “I want to break you so bad.”

Madara’s eyes widen, his breath quickens in fear and anticipation. Never in his life has he needed to be told something so bad and not known until it was said. He _wants wants wants_. 

“Is that alright, my love?” Hashirama asks, and suddenly his hand grips Madara by the chin hard enough to bruise, fingers like rocks pressed against his jaw. Madara loves it. “Can I break you? Pull you back from the edge until you can’t take it anymore, then push you so far over it you lose yourself? Will you let me?”

The pain in his face is exquisite. Madara can’t exactly give a proper answer at this point, so he settles for trying to move his head up and down to nod. Next thing he knows, he is slapped so suddenly he almost looses his balance and falls, the blow snapping his head to the side and making his face instantly flare up in bright, stinging pain. Hashirama hums, then grabs a fistful of his hair, pulling Madara back upright. His cheek stings, his jaw throbs, and his scalp is protesting the cruel treatment, but all he could think of is how much he loves that pain. 

Even more so, he loves who gave it to him.

“Are you sure, darling? Once you agree, I can’t say for sure anything you do from now on is going to stop me.” Hashirama releases his hair and cups his cheek once more, his fingers cool against the red, heated skin from where he slapped.

Madara lets out a moan of bliss and leaned into the touch, loving both the sting and the relief equally. His eyes close for a moment in reverence, and when he opens them, he looks up at Hashirama with wide eyes, ready and willing to please .

Hashirama chuckles softly, smiling one of his bright smiles as he gently runs his hand over Madara’s face. “Good boy, Madara. Very good.” His lips touches Madara’s forehead in a quick, tender kiss, most likely the last of its kind for the next few hours. 

Madara jerks violently as Hashirama lets his chakra flare, floor cracking beneath them and dark brown hair floating up as if caught in a breeze. The vines around Madara's wrists thicken in response to the power overload, and he can feel the breath leave his lungs as every sense is assaulted by hot, heavy chakra, enveloping him completely from every side and smothering him in what is purely _Hashirama_. Being a talented sensor, he can feel the potency and thickness of it so acutely it is physically _compelling_. His mind blanks from the overwhelming feeling, breath coming in short gasps as he stares sightlessly ahead of him, eyes and pupils blown open.

Madara's cock twitches and leaks, impossibly harder and pulsating in time with the waves of chakra going through the room. With each throb of power, his pleasure only rises higher and higher, until he is more aroused than he ever thought he could be. Madara only notices the gag was taken out of his mouth when he feels his tongue nearly loll out the side of his mouth, jaw gone slack and drool flowing thick down his chin. He distantly hears himself moan and pant and whine without restraint as if he is some needy bitch in heat.

“Ah... _hah_ , ha- _nnnn_ …” 

Hashirama grabs his weeping cock and Madara loses all inhibition right then and there, squirming and writhing and losing all control of himself. He can't hold back anything, so lost in the sensations and chakra and Hashirama that he barely even realizes that he's begging. 

“ _Please, please, please-nngh!_ ” He repeats the pathetic words he has never said to anyone else like a mantra, not even knowing what he is asking for, not even fully aware anymore, overwhelmed in every way. His eyes water and a few tears escape down his cheeks as he sobs brokenly, shoulders shaking as he tries to deal with it all and can't. "Please!"

“Shhh, settle down, Madara,” a calming voice says to him, and Madara regains enough awareness to register that he is looking at the caring face of his lover. He is still panting, shaking, and torturously aware of the ever-building pressure in his groin that should have reached its peak a long time ago, but it just keeps growing and growing, more and more-

“Madara, I want you to do something for me,” Hashirama says over his high pitched whine, running a soothing hand through his hair. Madara blinks the blurriness out of his vision for a few seconds before it comes back, and he groans pathetically. Hashirama uses his thumb to wipe the tears from his face. He licks them off the digit before softly, lovingly asking him, “Can you do something for me?”

 _Anything_ , Madara thinks, _I would do anything for you_. He wants to say it out loud, but it comes out as a low, desperate moan instead. Hashirama must have known what he meant, though, because he smiles. One hand comes up to grip his hair, not harshly, but enough to hold his head in place, so that they are perfectly eye level, and the other disappears lower than Madara can see. Hashirama’s smile turns vicious, and their eyes meet with deadly intent.

“Say my name.”

Later, Madara will deduce what Hashirama had slipped off his cock ring while simultaneously coating his hand in chakra and stroking him, but, at this moment, all he knows is white. White in his vision, eyes wide and mouth open to scream, but his voice is silent, the sudden onslaught of mind-breaking ecstasy is too much to handle. Pure, white-hot pleasure soaring through every inch of his body, to the core of his very being and _shaking it_. 

His body tenses, muscles flexing, back arching, trembling violently from head to toe as his seed spurted out in long strands that had been delayed much too long. If he had been aware, he would have even seen the reflection of his Sharingan in Hashirama’s satisfied gaze as he watches Madara fall apart completely.

Eternity passes in an instant of euphoria and pleasure. When Madara finally puts himself back together and everything comes back into focus, he is still taking heavy breaths and weak from the aftershock. His eyes are heavy, and he feels like he had just fought the best battle of his entire life. He is spent in the best possible way, and still trying to bring his mind fully back down from cloud nine. 

The oppressive chakra is gone, but Hashirama is there, hand still in his hair, the other rubbing soothing circles into his arm. He looks the most satisfied Madara has ever seen him, and the heaviness of that gaze is enough to have him moan again, the sensations of just minutes before too clear in his memory and his body being too sensitive right now. He feels like he is made of jelly-warm, tingly jelly, and he lets himself fall forward into Hashirama’s chest, breathing in the other’s scent as his mind began to drift away once more into bliss.

“Ah, Madara.” 

Hashirama shifts under Madara, and he feels something hard, warm, and big poke at his butt. He sits up groggily, surprised, and the thing pokes him again, harder, causing him to yelp at the force. He squirms, but those hands are there on his hips again, holding him down, leaving their mark. Hashirama grinds his hips up and suddenly, everything registers clearly again and the fog that has been clouding his mind dissipates. Madara always manages to forget exactly how large his lover is, and every time it sends a shiver of anticipation and dread down his spine. He gives Hashirama a hesitant look, to which the Senju sends a wicked smirk.

“I didn’t say we were done. I still have to break you, remember?" The Senju's voice is cheerful as it always is, contrasting very brightly with the words said. Madara knows from experience that that combination is a tell tale sign of what's to come. Madara feels his insides flutter. "And you didn’t do what I asked you to.”

Oh. 

Madara lets out a single, shaky breath, pleading on the verge of his tongue, but Hashirama grabs him by the neck, firmly enough to cut off speech but not enough to choke, and whispers darkly in his ear, “You’re going to _scream_ my name.”

**Author's Note:**

> I never got the word count on this thing so it surprised me when I saw it was almost 2k lol. Let me know what you think? Kudos and comments make my day! 
> 
> I feel better now that this is out there, I definitely want to start working on all the other little pwps I have lying around in my folders and getting them posted lmaoo. So keep a look out! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Have a great day!


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